


Chapter One

by broadwayblainey



Series: Last Christmas [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 19:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broadwayblainey/pseuds/broadwayblainey
Summary: This is the first part of a sequel to a fic I wrote last year called Blue Christmas.I'm a little out of practice so there's probably a few mistakes, I'll try and be better.I promise this one isn't sad!





	Chapter One

He was fairly sure that Blaine had disappeared. Or that he had never existed in the first place and last Christmas was an elaborate dream. A coping mechanism to deal with trauma - yes, he had been seeing a therapist. Kurt looked up at the board of incoming flights and saw no sign of London. And Blaine wasn't answering his phone, so Kurt accepted the fact that his best friend was probably missing. Or made up. One of the two.  
His phone started ringing in his hand and yanked him out of his spiral. Blaine's face on his screen began to calm his nerves.  
"Hello?"  
"You've called me eight times in the last twelve minutes, Kurt," his voiced calmed the rest. "I like you too but I'm thinking I should get on the next flight out of here."  
"I'd just follow you, get a restraining order," he looked up at the screen again, there was still no sign of a London flight.  
"That's so romantic; you know I've always wanted someone to chase me through an airport."  
"I do know that," he gave up on the incoming flights changing and sighed. "Are you here?"  
"I've just got my bag. I'll be with you soon," he said and Kurt suddenly felt much lighter. There was some shouting from the other end of the phone. "People just seem to lose their manners before Christmas."  
"Yeah, people are assholes," he said.  
"True. But some people look great in black - or is that navy?"  
"It's navy," he smiled and looked around. "Where are you?"  
"Turn around."  
Kurt did. And there he was.  
"I see you," he said and tried to pretend his heart wasn't thrumming hard in his chest. "Some people need a new coat," he took in Blaine's black coat and, more importantly, his black curls, cut shorter than he had ever seen them but still fighting against a thick layer of gel. Blaine looked tired but was still smiling sweetly, perfectly. Still just as cute.  
"That's not a very nice thing to say to your favourite person, especially after he's traveled from another continent to see you," he was closer now, and it was as if the crowds were parting just for him, or something equally as corny.   
"I'm sorry," Kurt was laughing because Blaine was, and his walk turned into a jog to match Blaine's. "You look good, Anderson."  
"Thanks, Hummel. But you can put the phone down now," Blaine said and started running.  
"Oh, right."  
He had barely got his phone before a black bag was dropped at his feet and two arms were wrapped around him. Blaine hugged him tightly and squeezed, and Kurt squeezed right back, even tighter.   
"I missed you, Kurt," Blaine whispered and squeezed him again.   
"I've missed you too, Blaine," he squeezed him back and breathed him in, all nerves were forgotten. When they pulled apart Blaine kissed his cheek and brushed his thumb along the blush that bloomed there.   
"You look good," Blaine said, his eyes scanning his face. "You're feeling -"  
"Better, well," he breathed, smiling genuinely. "More like myself."  
"Good," Blaine said and kissed his other cheek, making Kurt flush red again. He needed to calm down. "Oh, I've missed you."  
"You've already said that."  
"Bares repeating; I've missed you," Blaine leaned down to grab his bag but Kurt stopped him, picking the bag up and slinging it over his shoulder. "Oh, gentleman."  
"You know me," he linked his arm through Blaine's and they started towards the exits. "And it's been seven weeks, barely, since I visited. I think I might be the one needing a restraining order."  
"You haven't missed me?" Blaine asked, whined it. He pouted and Kurt rolled his eyes.   
"I have thought about nothing else since I left," he smirked and hoped Blaine would think he was joking. He wasn't of course. He needed to calm down.   
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," he nudged Kurt's ribs with his elbow. "Are Burt and Carole waiting at your place?"  
"Yes, they're looking forward to seeing you."  
"Really?" Blaine sounded genuinely surprised, and that only made him all the more charming.  
"Really," Kurt assured.  
The airport doors slid open and the Ohio December weather greeted them. The biting wind stung his cheeks and, as he guided his friend to the car, his eyes ran. He held the car door open for Blaine, who thanked him with another gentleman comment, and tossed his bag into the back of his Dad's truck. Once his seatbelt was buckled and the engine was on he tried to start up the heat. When cold air blew dust onto their faces he slammed his fist against the dash.  
"Stupid thing," he barked at the steering wheel, and then felt a pang of embarrassment. He really did need to calm down.  
"Do you want to talk about it, dear?"  
"Shut up," he said, and pulled out of his parking space, beginning their journey home.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The Hummel's house could be seen from Mars. Lights dangled along every gutter and spiraled around the gates and fences. The trees twinkled and five-foot candy canes lined the path. Carole wasn't done with decorating, of course. She had a wreath to hang on the door, and garlands for the window sills. And more lights to hang on something, although Kurt wasn't sure where.  
Apparently being seen from Neptune was the goal.  
"Subtle," Blaine remarked as he hopped down from the truck. He shut the door and nodded. "I like it."  
"It's Carole's doing," he said in way of an explanation. He met Blaine at the front of the car and started up the path. "Speaking of."  
His stepmother was bounding out of the doors and down the steps, donning foam antlers a green Christmas sweater. She spread her arms as she approached them and swaddled Blaine with them as soon as he was within her reach.  
"Oh, it's so good to see you," she said against Blaine's shoulder. She pulled back and held him at arm's length, her hands grippings his arms tightly. Carole and his father had met Blaine three times in the past year; he had come to them in the spring, Kurt had insisted on flying him out for a reunion that consisted mostly of watching the clouds during the day and movies at night. They had visited London for a week during the summer and Kurt introduced them to his Brit friends, and they were thoroughly entertained by Brian. Most recently they met up in New York for a long weekend of touristy cliches in November. They had been instantly charmed by Blaine in a moment.   
But who wouldn't be?  
Kurt had visited on his own, too. He had things he needed to collect from his old house and he missed the city and his friends there. Ohio had been a needed change of pace, but it was no London. After almost a year it barely seemed like a Bristol. He needed to move, but that was a thought for another day.  
Blaine tipped his head to the side, his ear almost touching his shoulder, and studied Carole as he had Kurt at the airport.  
"Your hair's shorter, Mrs. H-H," he noted and smiled. "Looks nice."  
"So is yours," she said and touched his hair. "Looks nice."  
"If you're done making out," Kurt teased, shouldering Blaine's bag and starting towards the house. "I would like to not die from hypothermia before Christmas."  
"I'm glad to hear it," Blaine said. When Kurt turned to roll his eyes at him, Blaine had his arm linked with Carole's.  
The house, thank God, was warmer. It wasn't afflicted with temperamental heat like the car was and he ran his hand along the radiator to try and warm it. Carole was telling something to Blaine, who was giggling and chattering back excitedly. Somehow there were twice as many lights inside than outside; they hung from the ceilings and wound around the banisters. The tree in the living room was around four inches too tall and awkwardly bent along the ceiling. It was wonderfully decorated with ornaments from Kurt and Finn's childhoods weighing down almost every branch, along with ones collected since their parent's had married.  
Burt Hummel was sat in his chair next to the tree, his feet, to Kurt's annoyance, were up on the glass coffee table and his newspaper hid his face and most of his body.  
"The heats out on your old wagon again," Kurt told him, patting his bald head with his icy hand.  
"God, your hands are freezing," his father hissed and Kurt chuckled as he slumped onto the couch. "The nomad here?"  
"Right here, Burt," Blaine said and put his hand on Burt's shoulder as he passed him. He held it out for him to shake, which his father did. "It's good to see you."  
"Yeah, you too, kid," he said, and finally put his newspaper down. "Flight okay?"  
"It was fine, though there was a toddler who screamed for half the flight."  
"Did you manage to sleep on the plane?" Carole asked, she was perched on the arm of his Dad's chair and was leaning on his shoulder. "It's a long way."  
"Oh, uh. For a while, but it was fine; it went pretty quickly," he said, the words seeming to rush out of him. "I'm tired now, though. I don't even know what time it is."  
"It's almost eleven," Kurt said. "You're welcome, by the way, for picking you up practically in the middle of the night."  
"The middle of the night? When did you get so old?" Burt hid behind his newspaper before Kurt could find some tinsel to throw at him.  
"Did I not thank you?" Blaine asked as he flopped onto the couch next to him, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes. Had Kurt been much younger he would have been embarrassed in front of his Dad, as a teenager showing any level of affection to another man in front of his Dad or anyone was unthinkable. He tried to pretend he wasn't still a little embarrassed because he and Blaine were just friends, obviously. He also tried to pretend he wasn't slightly relieved when Carole told them she would make them some tea before bed. He needed to calm down.  
"You didn't," he said after realising Blaine actually wanted an answer to his question. He was peering up at Kurt with those pretty, pretty, stupid, lovely eyes.  
"Hmm, I'm sorry. Thank you, Kurt" Blaine murmured, closing his eyes again and rubbing his cheek against Kurt's shoulder. Nuzzling, actually. He was nuzzling.  
"You're not a cat, Blaine," he whispered and felt him smile against his shoulder. Kurt smiled back, even though no one was looking.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
"When are you leaving?" Blaine asked. The four of them were sat around the round kitchen table, sipping tea and trying to keep their eyes open. Blaine was curled up with his legs in front of him and his chin on his knees, looking remarkably like a child.  
"Tomorrow, probably after dinner," Carole said. "We'll be back Christmas Day."  
"Thanks for, uh, keeping Kurt company," his Dad said. Blaine was about to say something but Kurt got in first.  
"He doesn't like to leave me on my own for too long," he said, looking at Blaine and then pointedly at his father. "He's worried I might -" he mimed cutting his throat.  
"We're visiting Carole's parent's; they live upstate and can't go far so we're going to them," Burt said, ignoring Kurt completely bar a light shove to his arm and a roll of his eyes. Kurt hadn't noticed that his Dad looked just like him when he did that. Or Kurt looked like him. Whatever, he was tired.  
"Sounds nice," Blaine said around a yawn. He caught Kurt's eye and tried to hide his chuckle at Kurt's grimace.  
"Yeah, if you like the smell of breath mints and light homophobia," Kurt snarked. He winked at Blaine and earned another shove, this one from Carole. "I'm kidding."  
"They're nice people," Burt said monotonously. He was almost convincing but wasn't half the actor his son could have been.  
"Okay, I'm going to bed before I yell at you both," Carole said and downed the rest of her tea. She picked up the other mugs and put them in the sinks.  
"Now that sounds just like Christmas with my family," Blaine quipped quite cheerfully.  
"Okay, we can unpack that tomorrow, honey, but I need to sleep first," she kissed his cheek and then did the same to Kurt. She then rubbed his cheek with her hand quite motherly. He really did need to tell her he loved her more.  
"Love you," he said before he could stop himself and immediately felt stupid.  
"Ha!"  
"Ugh."  
"No, no takebacks," she kissed his cheek again and when Kurt looked around the room everyone was smiling.   
That was worth feeling silly, he supposed.   
"I love you too, sweetheart," she said to Kurt. "Come on, oldie," that was to his father, who pushed himself out of his chair with a groan and started towards the door. "'Night, boys."  
"Yeah, goodnight, kids," his Dad yawned from the doorway.  
"Night," they said in unison.  
Kurt and Blaine were left alone in the dimly lit kitchen and it was quiet for the first time since he had picked Blaine up. They were smiling, though, and when their eyes met they giggled. Kurt suddenly felt like a kid, one who was being yelled at for talking to his best friend too much in class. He shook his head, still grinning dumbly, and laughing for no reason.   
"I need sleep," he said after a moment and stood up out of his chair with a noise similar to the one his father had made.  
"God, does everyone get like that when they're old?" Blaine teased, hopping up out of his chair easily and darting out the room before Kurt could make it his turn for a shove.   
"You sass me too much, young man, and you'll be on the street," he said, turning the kitchen light off and joining Blaine in the living room.   
Blaine had his back swinging in his hand and they climbed the stairs to Kurt's room in a comfortable silence. He wasn't sure why but he suddenly felt awkward when they got there, a sort of awkward that came with changing in front of someone that isn't really meant to see you naked. He thanked God that he had his own bathroom.  
"I'll give you a minute," he told Blaine who nodded, obviously already halfway to sleep.   
After swiping up his pajamas from atop his desk he made a beeline around his bed to his bathroom. The bathroom light was always too bright and, when he checked himself in the mirror, majorly unflattering but he was thankful to get a second alone.   
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
When Kurt returned to his bedroom, Blaine was led face down on his bed with his face buried in his pillow and his arms splayed out to his sides. His button-up shirt and black jeans were folded over the back of the chair at Kurt's desk and he was just wearing his undershirt and briefs. Kurt didn't stare.  
Much.  
He picked up Blaine's arm at the wrist and slid into bed under it, placing it gently on his stomach. Blaine cuddled into his side and yawned quietly.  
"Sleepy," he whispered. Kurt smiled and wrapped his arm around Blaine's back. He patted Blaine's head and quickly wished that he hadn't  
"You need to wash the gel out of your hair, Blaine."  
"Sleepy," he said again, this time with a little whine at the end.  
They were silent for a few minutes, just the howling wind rattling the windows and, threatening to blow the house to Oz, filling the room. His Dad's snoring could be heard, too, if he really strained his ears. Blaine's thumb was drawing a circle lightly on his stomach over and over. Suddenly he lifted his head, rested his chin on Kurt's chest and squinted up at him.  
"What?"  
"Will you take me shopping tomorrow?"  
"Sure," he closed his eyes and opened them again. He frowned at Blaine. "Why?"  
"I want to buy Burt and Carole presents," he yawned and led down again.   
"Do we have to go tomorrow?"   
"I want them to open it Christmas morning and they're leaving tomorrow night."  
"That's sweet of you," he murmured.  
"I'm a sweet person," Blaine said, but it came out more 'mmmasweepersn.'  
Silence again; the wind was stronger and the snores were louder but Kurt was engulfed with a feeling of calm that he let weigh him into the bed. His eyes closed and his breathing slowed and sleep almost took him.  
Almost.  
"Will you play with my hair until I fall asleep?"  
"My fingers aren't going anywhere near that helmet."  
His sleepy friend laughed and rolled onto his back, his body still numbing Kurt's arm. A dopey smile spread across his face, one that Kurt couldn't help returning.  
"Thanks for letting me steal your quiet Christmas."  
"That's okay," he whispered. "I stole yours last year."  
"Mine was never going to be quiet," Blaine said. Kurt imagined that was true; his plans consisted of three wild friends and show rehearsals. "Maybe letting a strange man into my home probably wasn't the smartest idea I've ever had, in hindsight."  
"It wasn't technically your home," Kurt pointed out. "But true."  
"But I'm glad I did," he bopped Kurt on the nose with his finger and closed his eyes again, a sweet smile still at the corners of his mouth.  
"Me too," Kurt said quietly.   
"I'm sleeping now," Blaine breathed.  
A moment passed and he was; his mouth open, his breaths slow and even, curled up on Kurt's arm. Kurt watched him for a moment, watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically, watched his face slack and his body loosen, and hoped he would join him soon. Sometimes he would spend hours counting the tiny flowers in his wallpaper, or how many fights the neighbor's cats got into, just willing and begging for sleep. It usually evaded him, he'd be awake until the early hours of the morning just thinking and thinking himself into a quiet madness that was gone as quickly as it came by sunrise.  
Not tonight, though. Tonight his eyelids were heavy and his mind was pleasantly foggy; as if he was waking from a lovely dream he couldn't quite recall. Tonight he closed his eyes and smiled into the cool air. He listened to the slow breathes of his friend and tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach.  
It was hard to ignore, and it was with a wider grin that he decided to stop ignoring it, at least until the morning. The feeling spread and he realized it wasn't anxiety, it wasn't nerves; it was a quiet hope that he had barely allowed himself to feel in a decade. It was a giddy kind of warmth that had come to be unfamiliar but was starting to feel like home again.  
He needed to calm down.


End file.
